The Darkness Will Rise From the Deep
by SisterOfAnElvenWannabe
Summary: AU. Mordred is the son of Morgause. At birth, she abandons him and he is taken in by the Druids. However, when she learns of the prophecy that her son will grow up to kill Arthur, she finds him and takes him back. But Mordred doesn't want anything to do with the woman who abandoned him. And he doesn't want to kill Prince Arthur, the man who saved his life.
1. Prologue: A Cry in the Woods

**Disclaimer: Merlin and all of its characters belong to the BBC. I only own the plot and any original characters.**

 **A/N: This story is one of the two I am writing for NaNoWriMo (the second is also a Merlin fanfic). So, it may receive speed updates in November, or it may receive no updates until November is over, since I need to proofread chapters before I post them. (I currently have two chapters written, besides the prologue).**

 **The title of this story is a line from the song "Mordred's Lullaby" by Heather Dale.**

 **The cover was created by** **Maximumoe14 on the NaNoWriMo website.**

 **Prologue: A Cry in the Woods**

The forest was dark. The woman moved through it silently and swiftly, like a shadow. Stopping, she pushed back her hood to reveal blonde hair.

The tiny bundle in her arms stirred and she looked down at it.

For a moment, she felt a stirring of regret, but she pushed it away. She was a High Priestess of the Old Religion; there was simply no room in her life for a child.

Besides, the child would be safe. She had chosen the place carefully. There was a Druid camp nearby and he would be found quickly. She lay the baby down carefully, nestled between the roots of a tree.

She looked down at him for a moment, then turned and began retracing the route by which she had come, all signs of hesitation gone. She did not look back.

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Cerdan couldn't sleep. He had been laying on his pallet for at least an hour, but still sleep had not come to him. There was no discernable reason for this inability to sleep, he was just restless.

Quietly, he got up and left his tent. Perhaps a walk would relieve his restlessness. The camp was quiet and empty. It was late and almost everyone was asleep. The moon shone bright overhead.

He left the clearing that contained the camp and began walking through the forest with no particular destination in mind. As he walked, he listened to the familiar sounds of the forest, the rustle of small animals in the undergrowth, the hooting of an owl nearby. He enjoyed the familiar sounds of nature. Suddenly he heard a different kind of sound, one that didn't belong.

He stopped walking and stood still, listening. The sound came again, a high, thin wail. A baby? Could it be?

Cerdan began walking again, moving with a new purpose as he followed the cries.

He soon found their source, a small bundle tucked among the roots of an oak tree, only visible because it was squirming.

He hurried forward, one part of his mind hoping he was wrong, that it was only some kind of animal, and not a baby. But as he reached the tree where the bundle lay, he knew he had been right.

 _Who could just abandon a child like this?_ he wondered as he picked the infant up and cradled him (or her, there was really no way of telling in the dark) in his arms. The infant quieted, comforted by his touch.

Cerdan quickly made his way back to the camp, carrying the child carefully.

Rather than return to his own tent when he reached the camp, he made his way to the tent that housed Aglain, the leader of the camp.

Aglain was awake. He looked over as Cerdan entered the tent, his mouth opening in surprise when he realized what Cerdan was carrying.

"I found him in the woods," Cerdan explained, "Someone must have just left him there. It's a good thing I heard him crying."

In the light cast by the tent's torches, he got his first good look at the baby, which appeared to be a boy. He looked to be a few months old and had dark hair and bright blue eyes. He looked up at Cerdan quite calmly, seemingly studying him in return.

"Look at this," Aglain had come to stand next to Cerdan. He touched the baby's blanket, "It bears the marks of the Old Religion."

Cerdan examined the blanket and realized that Aglain was right; it was indeed transcribed with words in the Old Tongue.

"So whoever left him out there probably had magic," Cerdan said, "But who could do such a thing, just abandon their child? And why?"

"Perhaps they were in danger and did not believe the child was safe with them," Aglain responded, "We may never know."

"Do you think they knew the camp was here?" Cerdan asked, thinking that if they hadn't it was a very lucky coincidence, "And if they did, why wouldn't they just bring him directly here?"

"I don't know," Aglain replied, "But it is lucky that you found him."

"What will we do with him?" Cerdan asked.

"We will care for him," Aglain replied, "It will not be the first time we have taken in someone in need."

Just then, the little boy began to cry again.

"Shh," Cerdan murmured, bouncing him in his arms, but the baby continued to cry.

"He may be hungry," Aglain said, "Take him to Branwen. She will be able to feed him."

Cerdan thanked Aglain and left the tent. He walked across the clearing to the tent Branwen shared with her husband and five young children, the youngest of whom was just three months old.

He entered the tent to find all of its occupants asleep. However, at the sound of the baby's cries, Branwen awoke and sat up, and her husband stirred next to her. Branwen's eyes fell on Cerdan and she looked at him in confusion.

"I need your help," he whispered.

She rose from her pallet, gesturing with her head to indicate that they should go outside, so they didn't wake the others. Her husband's eyes followed them curiously, but he stayed where he was. Cerdan followed her from the tent.

"What's going on?" she asked, once they were outside, eyeing the crying baby in his arms.

He quickly explained what had happened.

"I'll care for the boy myself," he added, "You don't need to worry about that. I know your own little ones keep you busy. But, well… I can't feed him."

She smiled at that, "No, you certainly can't," she agreed. She held out her arms for the baby and Cerdan carefully handed him to her.

She disappeared back into her tent with him, and his cries soon ceased.

When she returned, some time later, she was carrying a basket. Looking into it, Cerdan saw the baby, fast asleep.

"We had an extra basket from when the twins were babies," she explained, "I thought you would need something for him to sleep in."

Cerdan took the basket from her carefully, "Thank you."

Branwen nodded, "You know, I'm sure there are many in the camp who would raise him," she said, "You have no obligation to do it yourself."

Cerdan shook his head, "No. I don't know why… but I feel as if he's my responsibility, somehow. Perhaps I was meant to find him."

Branwen nodded, "Well, in that case, I suppose it's up to you to give him a name."

Cerdan looked down at the sleeping baby, "I… I'll have to think about that."

From the direction of Branwen's tent came an infant's cry. She smiled wryly, "Speaking of babies, I guess I'd better go. If he wakes up hungry again, just come bring him to me."

Cerdan thanked her again, then walked back toward his own tent, carrying the baby in the basket.

He set the basket down next to his pallet, then sat down on the pallet.

"What should I call you, then?" he murmured to the sleeping baby, running his hand over the writing on his blanket.

He began to run through potential names in his mind, but his thoughts soon drifted. He again wondered about who had left the baby in the woods. Had it been one of his parents? What had their reasons been? The blanket the infant was wrapped in was made of fine material, suggesting wealth. And then there was the writing in the tongue of the Old Religion. Perhaps whoever had left him there was being hunted for their magic, and that was why they had felt it was necessary to leave their child the way they had.

 _Or maybe they just abandoned him,_ the less charitable part of his mind said, and he felt a sudden stab of anger toward the faceless stranger who could do such a thing.

 _You don't know what happened,_ he reminded himself. Anger was pointless.

"I promise, I'll take care of you," he whispered to the sleeping baby, "I won't leave you."

He lay down and covered himself with his blanket, thinking that perhaps in the morning he would be able to choose a name for the child.

He soon fell asleep and began to dream.

 _In his dream he was in the center of the camp, crouching down with his hands outstretched to a dark-haired toddler, who stood a few feet away._

" _Come on, Mordred," he urged, "You can do it. Come to daddy." The child began to toddle towards him unsteadily. After two steps, he fell down, landing on his bottom in the dirt. But he quickly pushed himself back up._

" _Good job," Cerdan praised, "Come on now, a few more steps." The child began toddling towards him once more. This time he reached him._

" _Yay!" Cerdan praised, clapping, "Good job, Mordred." He scooped the little boy up and kissed his cheek. The child giggled and mimicked Cerdan's clapping._

" _Yay!" he repeated happily._

Cerdan woke from the dream with a smile on his face. It was still dark in the tent, not yet morning. He sat up and looked over at the baby, who was still fast asleep. A wave of paternal love swept over him. Somehow, he knew, deep in his heart, that though he had only met this tiny child tonight, he was his.

He had thought that he would like to have kids, but it had always been a dream for _someday_ , when he found the right woman and got married. But now it seemed he had become a father in a different way. And all because he had felt restless and decided to take a walk.

"Mordred," he said the name from his dream out loud, testing it. It felt right, somehow, natural. The baby made a small, contented sound in his sleep. It probably meant nothing, but Cerdan chose to take it as a sign.

"Mordred," he repeated, and smiled, "Yes, that will be your name. My son, Mordred."

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter One: The Prophecy

9

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Merlin.**_ **Technically, I don't even own the idea of Mordred being Morgause's son, since it comes from Arthurian legend.**

 **A/N: Honestly, I feel sort of "meh" about this chapter but I hope you like it.**

 **By this way, this chapter is set sometime during early season 3.**

 **Chapter One: The Prophecy**

 _12 years later_

"You have information for me?" Morgause regarded the man in front of her coldly.

He smiled, "Yes, information that I think will interest you greatly."

"Well, get on with it then," she said impatiently.

"I am a Seer, my lady," he said, "And I have spent much time studying the prophecies of others. I have information for you about something you greatly desire… the death of Arthur Pendragon."

Morgause leaned forward, a cold smile gracing her lips, "Go on."

"It is foretold that Arthur Pendragon will meet his death at the hand of a Druid," the man said, "I can tell you who that Druid is."

Morgause waited, trying not to let the man see how eager she was for this information.

"He is the child you left in the woods many years ago," the man said. Morgause's eyes widened as this sunk in.

"His name is Mordred." At these final words, Morgana, who was standing next to Morgause, let out an involuntary gasp.

Morgause watched, puzzled, as she stepped forward, " _Mordred?_ Did you say Mordred?"

The man nodded, "Yes, my lady, I did."

"Here is your reward," Morgause held out a pouch to the man, "Leave us now."

She waited until he was gone to turn to Morgana. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Morgana beat her to it.

"Mordred is your _son?"_ she demanded.

"You know the boy?" Morgause asked, "How?"

"He's the Druid child I told you about," Morgana said, "The one who I hid in my room. The one whose camp was destroyed."

Morgause realized that the anger that flashed in her sister's eyes was not entirely at the memory of the destruction of the Druid camp.

"You just left him in the woods?" Morgana demanded, "You _abandoned_ him?"

Morgause held her hands up in a placating gesture, "Sister, I knew the Druids would find him. I was very careful about where I left him. I knew he would be safe."

"But why did you leave him?" Morgana asked.

"I'm a High Priestess of the Old Religion," Morgause reminded her, "A baby would interfere with my life far too much."

"I should go," Morgana said abruptly, and Morgause could tell she was still angry, "If I'm missing for too long people will start to wonder."

"Sister, wait!" Morgause called and Morgana turned to look back.

"Do you know where the boy is now?" Morgause asked.

Morgana shook her head, "The last time I saw him was when Alvarr's camp was attacked." With that she turned to leave once more.

Morgause watched her sister leave with a frown, but though she was bothered by her argument with Morgana, that couldn't stop the excitement that the Seer's news had brought her.

She went quickly to her crystals and murmured a spell over them. One of the crystals began to glow, and a scene appeared in it. It showed a small, well-hidden clearing in a forest. In the center of the clearing a boy of about twelve sat by a fire. He had dark hair and wore a blue cloak around his shoulders.

Morgause smiled, "So, Mordred. It looks as if we're going to have a family reunion."

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Mordred made his way back to his little clearing, carrying two fish that he had caught. He ducked under the low hanging branches that formed a sort of small tunnel at the opening to the clearing.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, he straightened up, and then froze, almost dropping the fish in surprise. There was a woman standing in the middle of the clearing, next to the place where he made his fire at night.

She smiled when she saw him, "Hello, Mordred."

"How do you know my name?" Mordred demanded, "Who are you? What are you doing here?'

"My name is Morgause," she said, "I'm…" it seemed as if she had been about to say something, but thought better of it, "I'm Morgana's sister."

Mordred really did drop the fish at that, " _Morgana?_ She has a _sister?_ Did she send you? Is she here too?" he looked around the clearing hopefully, as if expecting Morgana to appear from the shadows.

Morgause smiled, "No, she isn't here now, but if you come with me you'll be able to see her soon."

Mordred narrowed his eyes, "How do I know I can trust you?"

"Morgana told me about you," Morgause said, "About how she cared for you… and about your camp."

Mordred flinched.

"How did you find me?" he asked, as much to distract himself from thoughts of his camp as from actual curiosity.

Morgause smiled, "Magic. I saw you in my crystals."

"You have magic?" Mordred asked, "Prove it."

Morgause extended her hand, " _Forbyrne."_ A small flame appeared in her open hand. After a moment, she closed her hand and the flame vanished.

"So, will you come with me?" she asked.

Mordred hesitated for a long moment, and then nodded.

Morgause held out her hand, and after another moment of hesitation, Mordred took it.

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Mordred stared up at the castle as they approached it, a mixture of awe and apprehension on his face, "This is where you live?"

Morgause nodded, "Yes. And it's where you'll be living now too."

Mordred was silent, not sure how to respond to that, or even how he felt about it.

Morgause led him through the gates into the castle courtyard, and then through the doors, which she opened with a flick of her hand, and into the castle.

"You must be hungry," she said, looking at him.

Mordred's stomach growled and he nodded.

Morgause led him to an elaborate dining room. She walked to the far end of an enormous table and sat down at the head of it, gesturing for Mordred to sit beside her. He noticed that the seat she had taken was more elaborate than the others, almost like a throne.

Two servants appeared, bearing platters of food. Mordred couldn't help but stare as they laid it on the table. All this food for two people? It would have been enough to feed his entire Druid camp.

Mordred reached out to take a piece of meat, but Morgause held up her hand, "Just tell the servants what you want."

Mordred stared at all the food in front of him, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

The servant closest to him, a young woman of about sixteen, smiled kindly, "Why don't I just give you a little of everything?" she suggested, and he nodded gratefully.

She loaded his plate with meat, vegetables, and a piece of bread, and then handed it to him.

Mordred began eating hungrily, but found himself too full to eat another bite long before he had finished what was on his plate. He looked over at Morgause, who had remained quiet while they had eaten.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, "Just because Morgana told you about me?"

Morgause shook her head, "No, that was not the reason. You are a very special boy, Mordred."

Mordred blinked, "What? You mean because I have magic?"

She shook her head again, "No, that is not what I mean." Mordred waited for her to explain what she did mean, but instead she only smiled, "But we can discuss that tomorrow. You must be tired."

Mordred opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't tired, and he wanted to know why she had brought him here, but a yawn came out instead.

"Anna!" Morgause called, and the girl who had served Mordred's food appeared.

"Take our young guest to the room that has been prepared for him," Morgause said.

"Of course, my lady." Anna walked over to stand next to Mordred and waited for him to rise.

Mordred stood, looking over at Morgause as he did so. He wanted to question her again, but he sensed it would do no good.

"Thank you," he said instead.

Morgause smiled, "Of course. Good night, Mordred. Sleep well."

Anna led Mordred through the castle. Mordred was overwhelmed by how _big_ the place was. He had been in a castle once before, but running up a staircase to Morgana's rooms, sneaking down to a secret tunnel, and being marched to a dungeon hadn't exactly given him much time to appreciate the sheer _size_ of the place.

"Here we are," Anna said at last, and pulled open a door. Mordred's mouth dropped open, "This is for _me_?"

Anna nodded with a smile, "All for you, young master."

Mordred blinked. He had never been called _young master_ before. But he was too busy staring at the room to give it much thought. It was huge; the little clearing where he had made his camp could probably have fit in it three times over. In the center of the room was an enormous bed, covered in a fine green bedspread. There was a chair in one corner, and a table with a cup and a pitcher of water in the other; both cup and pitcher were made of solid gold. There was a dresser against one wall, with an ornate mirror above it.

Mordred walked over to the bed and ran his hand over the cover. It was soft and smooth to the touch. He realized with a start that it was made of the same material as his old baby blanket, the one his father had found him wrapped in.

He looked back over towards the door. Anna was watching him with a smile. The neck of her dress has slipped down slightly to show a distinctive mark on her collarbone. Mordred's eyes widened, "You're a Druid."

Anna nodded, "I am," she said quietly, "My camp was destroyed. That is when I came to serve Morgause."

"My camp was destroyed too," Mordred told her.

Anna smiled sadly, "Then we have something in common. Though I am sorry to hear it."

She went to the bed and pulled back the covers for Mordred. He climbed into it. He had never slept on anything so soft.

Anna pulled the covers up over him, then extinguished the torch and walked to the door.

"Anna?" Mordred asked, and she turned back to look at him, "Do you know why Morgause brought me here?"

Anna hesitated, "I'm sure she will answer all your questions tomorrow," she replied after a minute, "Good night, Mordred."

"Good night," Mordred replied and watched her leave the room.

 **Please leave a review and tell me what you thought!**


	3. Chapter Two: The Revelation

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Merlin**_ **.**

 **A/N: This chapter is quite long, at least for me. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Chapter Two: The Revelation**

Mordred was woken by Anna the next morning.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked him. Mordred shrugged. Truthfully, he had had trouble falling asleep. Despite the fact that the bed was far more comfortable than anything else he'd ever slept on, he wasn't used to sleeping inside and it had made him feel trapped.

"I bought some fresh clothes for you," Anna said, holding the bundle in her arms out to him.

Mordred took the clothes from her with a quiet thank you. Like the covers on his bed, the clothes were made of fine, expensive material.

Anna left the room to give him some privacy while he dressed. He changed quickly into the clothes, then looked into the mirror. He looked strange, he decided as he examined his reflection, fingering the necklace he never took off, the last gift his father had ever given him. He picked up his blue cloak and fastened it around his shoulders. There, now he looked more like himself.

He turned away from the mirror and went out into the hall, where Anna waited.

She smiled, "You look very handsome. Lady Morgause is waiting for you to have breakfast with her."

Mordred followed Anna back to the dining hall he'd eaten in last night. When he entered the dining hall, a surprise was waiting for him. Morgause was again sitting at the head of the table, but she was not sitting alone, a dark-haired woman sat to her right. Both women turned toward the door when Mordred and Anna entered.

"Morgana!" Mordred practically ran down the length of the dining hall.

Morgana rose from the table and held out her arms to him, "Mordred!"

"Anna didn't tell me you were here," Mordred said, as Morgana hugged him.

Morgana smiled, releasing him and stepping back to look at him, "I just arrived. I doubt she knew."

She brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, "How have you been, Mordred?"

He shrugged, "I've been okay."

"Morgause told me you were all alone when she found you," Morgana fretted, "Have you been alone all this time since I last saw you?"

Mordred nodded, "It's okay, though," he said, not wanting her to worry, "I can take care of myself."

Morgana hugged him again, "Well, now you don't have to anymore."

"Are you going to stay here?" Mordred asked hopefully.

Morgana shook her head, "I can't. No one even knows I come here."

Mordred nodded, remembering that Morgana was the king's ward.

Morgana ushered him over to the table, "Come and eat."

Mordred sat down, choosing the chair next to Morgana, rather than the one next to Morgause that he had sat in the previous night.

A plate of food was placed before him and he began to eat. Again, he was full long before it was finished.

When the plates had been cleared away, Morgause turned to Mordred, "Now, there are things we must discuss."

Mordred looked up at her, wondering if she was going to tell him why she had brought him here and what she had meant when she called him special.

"When you were a baby, you were left in the woods near a Druid camp," Morgause said.

Mordred stared at her, "How do you know that?" He knew he had never told Morgana that.

Morgause hesitated for an instant and then said, "Because I was the one who left you there."

For a moment Mordred just stared at her.

"You're- you're my _mother_?"

Morgause nodded, "Yes, I am."

Mordred didn't know what to say. For so long he had wondered about his birth parents, who they were, why they'd left him.

"Why did you leave me?" he asked.

"That doesn't matter now," Morgause said, "All that matters is that we're together now." She reached out as if to touch his hair, but he jerked away. At first he had been too shocked to feel anything else, but now a new emotion was rising, anger. And though Morgause had attempted a tone of motherly affection, it rang false to Mordred.

Morgause's expression flickered, but then she smiled, dropping her hand.

Morgana reached out and took Mordred's hand, smiling at him, "You know what this means? It means I'm your aunt."

Despite the anger he felt towards Morgause, Mordred had to return Morgana's smile at that.

He looked toward Morgause again, "What about my father?"

"What about him?" her tone was dismissive.

"Is he here too?" Mordred asked, "Who is he?"

"I only met him once," Morgause replied, "I don't remember his name."

Mordred frowned. He wondered if his birth father would have kept him if he'd known about him.

Morgause smiled again, "But there is more we must discuss."

There was a strange eagerness in her tone now.

"What do you know of prophecies, Mordred?" she asked.

Mordred blinked, surprised by the sudden question. He shrugged, "Just what my father and the other Druids told me."

Morgause nodded, "Well, a few days ago I learned of a prophecy, one that was of great interest to me. It was a prophecy about you."

" _Me_?" Mordred repeated, his eyes widening, sure she couldn't be serious.

"Yes," Morgause replied, "You."

"What does it say about me?" Mordred asked.

Morgause smiled, "It says that you will kill Arthur Pendragon."

Mordred's stomach lurched, "What?" Surely he couldn't have heard her right.

"Someday you will kill Arthur Pendragon," Morgause repeated, "It is your destiny. She was beaming at him like this was wonderful news, like a proud parent. She didn't seem to notice how Mordred's face had paled.

Mordred's stomach was churning. He felt scared and sick. He looked towards Morgana, hoping for a denial of Morgause's words, and saw the same eagerness in her eyes he had seen in his mother's.

"But," Mordred began, "I don't want-"

Morgause cut him off with a wave of his hand, "You'll be a hero. The Pendragons are a plague on this land. They wish to destroy everyone with magic."

Mordred shook his head. He knew that was true of Uther but…

"Prince Arthur saved my life," he looked from Morgause to Morgana.

"Arthur may not be as bad as his father yet," Morgana said, "But he is no friend to magic."

Mordred dropped his gaze, his insides still churning. So this is what Morgause had meant when she said he was special. Then he realized something else and his head snapped up again, "That's why you brought me here. Not because I'm your son, but because you want me to kill Prince Arthur."

Morgause opened her mouth to speak, but before she could Mordred leapt to his feet, his chair clattering to the ground, "No! Just leave me alone!"

He turned and raced from the room, ignoring Morgana's cry of "Mordred, wait!" behind him.

He ran down the hall and the great doors of the palace burst open before him. He ran out into the courtyard. For a moment he wanted to just keep running, straight through the gate, but Morgause would just find him again. And besides, he didn't want to make Morgana worry.

So instead he ran in a different direction, through a small gateway and into a garden. In the farthest corner of the garden he dropped to his knees, panting for breath.

He shifted into a sitting position and pulled his knees to his chest, then rested his forehead on his knees and closed his eyes.

"Mordred?" he jumped when he heard the voice and felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Anna.

Mordred looked up at her as she knelt next to him, "Did you know that she was my mother?"

Anna nodded, "Yes," she admitted quietly.

"And...the prophecy?" Mordred said, "Did you know about that?"

"No," Anna said quietly, "Not until I heard her tell you about it."

"I don't want to do it, Anna," Mordred said, "I don't _want_ to kill Prince Arthur. I- I know Morgana says he's bad, but… he saved me. Even though it meant going against his own father. If he really wants to destroy everyone with magic like Morgause said why would he do that?"

Anna ran her fingers through Mordred's hair in a comforting gesture, "Why don't you tell me about it?"

So Mordred told her the whole story, how he had gone to Camelot with his father, how they had been betrayed and his father had been caught by the guards, about how he had called out in his mind for help and Emrys had answered. Here Anna's eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt Mordred. He was glad because speaking of Emrys brought to mind the last time he had seen him and what Emrys had done then.

He told her about how Emrys had taken him to Morgana, and how she and her maidservant had cared for him. When he got to the part about how his father had been executed his voice caught and he faltered. Anna silently slipped her arms around him and waited for him to be ready to continue.

He told her about how Morgana had tried to sneak him out and they'd been caught by Prince Arthur and some other men, and then about how Prince Arthur had broken him out of the dungeons and taken him back to the Druids.

When his story was finished Anna put her hand under her chin and lifted his head so his eyes met hers, "I don't know anything about Prince Arthur besides what you just told me, Mordred, but I do know this, you should always listen to your heart. What does your heart tell you?"

Mordred bit his lip, thinking, "That… Prince Arthur is different from his father. He saved my life. Killing him would be _wrong_. But… if the prophecy says I'm going to does it matter what I think?" He felt sick and ashamed.

"Of course it matters," Anna said, "No one can fully know the future, Mordred. Things may not be as they appear."

A moment of silence passed between them.

"So, what do I do now?" Mordred asked.

"Why don't you come inside?" Anna said.

Mordred followed her inside, but he didn't go back to the dining hall. Instead he went back to his room and lay on the big bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Every time he thought about the prophecy Morgause, _his mother_ , had told him about it made his stomach twist.

He thought of the conversation he had had with Anna out in the garden. Some parts of his time in Camelot were blurry and hard to remember, just bit and pieces, voices speaking over him as he drifted in a fever.

Then other parts were crystal clear. The moment of his father's death would, he knew, remain forever ingrained in his memory. Though he hadn't seen it, he had _felt_ it, felt the life leaving his father's body. Mordred squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory.

He cast around for something else to think about and his mind landed on Emrys. He frowned, feeling the mix of confusion and anger that he always felt when he thought of Emrys. All his life he had been told of the great warlock who would save his people. And Emrys _had_ saved him, when they had first met.

At first he had seemed quite willing to help. But then… Mordred didn't know what had happened. Suddenly it had seemed that Emrys no longer wanted to help him. But he had come in the end.

 _But he didn't do anything to save my people when my camp was destroyed…_ Mordred thought bitterly, _He led the knights right to us!_ Part of Mordred knew that he wasn't being fair. There wasn't anything Emrys could have done on that day. And he hadn't blamed Emrys for it then, though a part of him blamed himself. It was, he, after all, who had sensed that Morgana was in trouble and told Aglain where to find her. And the knights had come looking for her.

No, his anger at Emrys stemmed from what had happened the next time they had met. It had been at Alvarr's camp. Alvarr had taken Mordred in when he was all alone. At the time Mordred had thought it was out of kindness, but afterwards he had wondered if Alvarr had really just been using him all along.

 _Just like my mother…_ he thought, with a surge of bitterness.

After the destruction of his camp Mordred had been angry, and Alvarr had fed that anger and fanned its flames. Mordred had told him about Morgana and they had enlisted her help in stealing the Crystal of Nemeth. And then the knights had come. It had been like his Druid camp all over again.

Mordred had fled, pursued bytwo knights. And Emrys had tripped him.

 _Some savior,_ Mordred thought angrily, _he tried to get me killed!_

But for the first time, there was something beyond the anger. A glimmer of understanding.

Mordred again remembered the prophecy his mother had spoken of, and suddenly he was sure that Emrys knew. That was why he had been so reluctant to help Mordred in Camelot, why he had tripped him when he was running from the knights. Because he knew about the prophecy, he knew that it was Mordred's destiny to kill Prince Arthur.

 _Just like you killed those knights…_ the thought came unbidden.

 _They were going to kill me,_ he tried to tell himself, _It never would have happened if Emrys hadn't tripped me._ And it was true. But it was not the whole truth. Mordred hadn't been acting only in self-defense, he hadn't merely been scared, like when he had thrown the knights who pursued him back when his camp was attacked. No, he had been angry. He had wanted to make them pay. For his camp. For his father. At the time they had hardly seemed human, they had seemed like monsters.

He remembered the vicious surge of pleasure that had coursed through him as he had watched the men fall, pierced by spears flung with the force of his mind. Shame coursed through him, sudden and strong.

What would his father say if he knew what Mordred had done? His father, who had done his best to instill in Mordred the value of peace and compassion. Druids didn't kill. And they certainly didn't take pleasure in it.

 _He would be ashamed of you_ , the voice in his head taunted, _He would be horrified. He would think you're a monster._

 _No!_ Mordred curled in on himself, as if that could shut out the voice of his own thoughts, _I'm not a monster!_

 _Aren't you?_ The voice whispered again, _You've already killed two men. And you're going to kill Arthur too. What kind of a person would kill the man who saved his life?_

 _I won't! I won't! I won't! The prophecy is wrong! I won't do it! I'm not a killer!_

 _Yes you are. You can tell yourself that you aren't all you want but it won't change the truth. No wonder Emrys wants you dead._

The sound of a knock on his door made him jump. He sat up, only then realizing that there were tears on his face. He wiped them away hastily, "Who is it?" He hoped it wasn't his mother.

"It's me." It was Morgana's voice, "May I come in?"

"Yeah," Mordred tried to make his voice sound normal. The door opened and Morgana entered the room.

She looked towards Mordred with concern, "I have to go now. I wanted to come say goodbye. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Mordred said hastily. Morgana walked over and sat on the edge of his bed.

"You were very upset earlier," she said.

Mordred shrugged, not looking at her.

"Mordred…" she reached out and brushed her hand through his hair. Suddenly Mordred lurched forward and threw his arms around her, burying his face against her shoulder.

For several long moments, Morgana didn't say anything, she just held him tightly, stroking his hair.

At last she pulled back and looked at him. She reached out and cupped his face in her hand, "Everything's going to be okay, Mordred. I promise you, everything's going to be just fine."

Irrationally, Mordred found himself wishing that _she_ was his mother, instead of Morgause. It was a silly thought. Morgana was probably no more than twelve years older than him. But it was she who had taken care of him, who had loved him. Though he had only seen her three times before today, she had been more of a mother to him than he could ever imagine Morgause being.

Yet, her comforting words fell short. Because Mordred knew that when she said everything would be okay, it didn't mean the same thing to her as it did to him. For Mordred, everything being okay would mean escaping the prophecy, the destiny that now weighed upon him. But Morgana desired that destiny, he had seen it in her eyes in the dining room earlier.

Mordred didn't voice any of these thoughts aloud. Instead, he just smiled, "Thank you, Morgana."

Morgana nodded, returning his smile.

"I have to go now," she ran her fingers through his hair again, "I wish I could stay. But I'll see you again soon, I promise."

She leaned forward to give him another hug, and then kissed the top of his head, "Goodbye, Mordred."

He hugged her back, "Goodbye, Morgana."

She rose from the bed and turned to leave.

"Morgana?" Mordred called as she reached the door and she turned back to look at him.

"Yes, Mordred."

"I'm glad," his smile was genuine this time, "That you're my aunt. That we're family."

Morgana smiled broadly, "So am I, Mordred, so am I."

He watched her leave the room, closing the door behind her. The smile faded from his face. He lay back in the bed again then turned over on his side. He pulled one of the pillows down from the top of his bed, and clasped it in his arms, clutching it as tightly as a lifeline.

Thoughts of destiny and prophecies whispered through his mind. He shut his eyes, wishing he could shut out the thoughts as well. Eventually he fell into a fitful doze.

His dreams were dark and confused.

 _He was in a cell in the dungeons of Camelot._

 _He was running through the forest, fleeing for his life._

 _He was standing in a crowd, watching as his father was led to a platform by two armored men, watching as a noose was placed around his neck._

 _He was in the forest again, watching spears fly away from him, towards two men, watching them fall as the spears pierced their bodies. And then he was standing over the bodies, and one of them was Prince Arthur. A voice from the dark whispered words that he couldn't quite make out._

 _And suddenly Emrys was there. He stared down at Mordred with cold eyes._

 _Mordred opened his mouth to speak, to plead, though he knew not for what, but no sound came out. He was struck mute and frozen with terror._

 _Then Emrys raised his hand, his eyes flaring suddenly gold. And from the cloaks of the dead men on the ground, two golden dragons rose, transforming from embroidered patterns into creatures of flesh and blood. Creatures with sharp claws, and sharper teeth. They hovered in the air as if waiting for orders. And all the while Emrys stared down at Mordred with the same cold, condemning look._

 _Mordred at last found his voice, "Emrys, please." The words came out desperate and afraid._

 _But Emrys' pitiless expression never wavered, "I never should have helped you. I should have let you die. It would have been better if you had died."_

 _And with that he flung his hand forward and the dragons flew toward Mordred, golden scales flashing, mouths stretched wide and teeth glistening._

Mordred woke with a cry, lurching up into a sitting position in the bed.

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought!**


	4. Chapter Three: Eirlys

21

 **Disclaimer: All rights to** _ **Merlin**_ **belong to the BBC.**

 **Chapter Three: Eirlys**

Days passed, and then weeks. Mordred grew used to life in Morgause's castle. He was happiest when Morgana was there, despite the fact that he knew that both she and his mother were eager to see the prophecy about him fulfilled.

Anna, too, was a great comfort to him. She was the only one he could really talk to about his feelings about the prophecy. If he brought it up to his mother or Morgana, they would just try to convince him that it was a good thing. Only Anna understood why he didn't want it and believed that he could change his fate.

Then one morning Mordred was woken by one of the other servants, instead of Anna.

"Where's Anna?" he asked, "Is she sick?"

The servant didn't answer, and he didn't meet Mordred's eyes.

Mordred's stomach tightened. He got dressed as quickly as he could and hurried down to the dining hall, hoping desperately that Anna would be there.

But she wasn't. And there was an unfamiliar woman standing where she usually stood.

Morgause looked up and smiled, "Good morning, Mordred. Did you sleep well?'

Mordred ignored the question.

"Where's Anna?" he demanded.

Morgause's gaze turned frosty, "I dismissed her from my service."

"What?" Mordred cried angrily, "You can't do that!"

"I can dismiss any servant that I like." Morgause said coldly.

"She was my _friend,"_ Mordred said.

"She was putting ideas in your head," his mother replied in the same cold tone.

Mordred glared at her.

"I'll leave," he threatened, "I'll run away."

"You will do no such thing," Morgause answered, "Now sit down and stop being so ridiculous."

But Mordred turned on his heel and strode away from the table. Morgause tried to call him back, but he ignored her.

He considered making good on his threat of running away, but instead he only returned to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

He climbed up onto his bed and sat in the center of it, pulling his knees to his chest. What would he do without Anna?

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Mordred stayed in his room for two days. When his mother knocked on the door, he ignored it, and if she entered the room, he pretended to be asleep. When servants came in to bring him meals, he didn't speak a word to them.

On the third day, there came a knock on his door. Thinking it was his mother, Mordred rolled over so his back was to the door and pretended to be asleep. He heard the door open, but didn't move.

"Mordred?" The voice wasn't his mother's, it was Morgana's.

Mordred rolled over to look at her.

She smiled a little, "There. I didn't think you were really asleep."

She sat down on the edge of his bed, "Morgause told me you've been avoiding her."

Mordred sat up. "She sent Anna away!" he said angrily, "Just because Anna encouraged me when I said I didn't want my stupid destiny." He glared at the wall across from his bed.

Morgana reached out, covering his hand with hers, "I'm sorry about your friend," she said quietly, "But Morgause was only trying to do what's best for you."

Mordred shook her head, "No, she wasn't. She was trying to do what's best for _her._ She doesn't care about me at all. The only thing she cares about is the prophecy." _I hate the prophecy,_ he thought, but didn't say it out loud.

Morgana sighed, "That isn't true, Mordred. Of course, she cares about you."

Mordred shook his head again. "No, she doesn't. Anna cared about me, but now she's gone. No one else here cares about me."

" _I_ care about you," Morgana said, and Mordred thought he saw a hint of hurt in her expression.

"I know that," he reassured her, "But you aren't here most of the time."

Morgana sighed, "I'm sorry. I wish I could be here more."

"I know," Mordred said, and attempted to smile, "I'm glad you're here now. How long can you stay?"

"I can stay for a few hours," she replied, "Nobody will miss me before then."

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Without Anna, life became very lonely for Mordred. He spent almost all of his time alone. The servants were all polite but none of them spoke to Mordred any more than was absolutely necessary, perhaps afraid that if they did they would lose their jobs, like Anna had. He rarely saw his mother except at mealtimes, and even then, the two had little to say to each other.

When Anna had been there, Mordred had looked forward to Morgana's visits, but now he longed for them whenever she was absent. The only times he was really happy were when Morgana was there.

More than anything, he wanted a friend who he could confide in, someone like Anna, who would understand his fears and his desires. But of course, if he had found one, he had no doubt his mother would have quickly gotten rid of them too.

He spent most of his time outside in the garden. Here he would sit in the grass and practice magic, or sometimes read a book that he had taken from his mother's library.

Once he even slept out in the garden. However this caused such a panic and fuss when a servant was sent to his room the next morning to wake him and discovered that he wasn't there that he never did it again.

He was frequently plagued with nightmares, memories of the attack on his camp and Alvarr's camp were common, as were images of his father's death; sometimes he saw him hung, sometimes beheaded, and once or twice, burned at the stake. And then there were the ones brought on by his knowledge of the prophecy, these intermingled with the other nightmares, twisting and contorting them. Often, Emrys was there, standing in the background and staring at Mordred with a look of cold accusation.

Once, he dreamed he was on a battlefield, dressed in armor. He had a sword and was battling fiercely against an opponent. But his opponent's face kept changing, shifting, sometimes it was Prince Arthur, sometimes it was Emrys, sometimes it was Mordred's mother or Morgana, and sometimes it was Mordred himself.

Whenever Mordred woke from these dreams, it took him a long time to fall asleep again.

He knew that his mother had given Morgana a healing bracelet that prevented bad dreams, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about his nightmares or to ask for her help. So he endured the nightmares.

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One night, after supper, Mordred was out in the garden reading a book by the light of a lamp he had brought out with him when he heard a soft whimpering sound coming from somewhere nearby. Marking his place in his book, he set it down and looked around the garden, wondering if he had imagined the sound.

Then he heard it again. It seemed to be coming from under a nearby hedge. Mordred walked over to the hedge and dropped to his knees beside it to peer underneath. Two black eyes peered back at him.

Carefully Mordred reached underneath the hedge. His hands touched something furry and warm. Gently, he drew it out.

It was a puppy. She had a long body and was all black except for a little tuft of fur on her chest that was pure white. She looked up at Mordred, tilting her head to the side curiously, and then let out a bark.

"Where did you come from?" Mordred asked, setting her down in his lap. His mother didn't own any dogs, and there was no one else living within miles of her castle.

As Mordred stroked the puppy's fur, he noticed how thin she was.

"You don't have anyone to take care of you, huh?" he asked her, "That's okay. I'm on my own, too, mostly. Maybe we can take care of each other."

The puppy barked again, as if in agreement and Mordred smiled for the first time in days.

Cradling the puppy in his arms, he stood. He picked up the book and tucked it under one arm, then blew out the lamp, but left it where it was. He walked back towards the castle, but rather than going to the main doors, he headed for the small door that led to the palace kitchens.

The cook looked over when he entered, her eyebrows arching up in surprise when she saw the puppy.

"I need some food for her," Mordred said, pretending not to notice her surprise.

The cook cast a doubtful look at the puppy, but made no comment. Instead she took two bowls, placed some scraps of meat in one and poured water into the other and set both on the floor.

Mordred took the puppy over to the bowls and set her down, sitting down cross-legged on the floor beside her. She instantly began wolfing down the food.

"Careful," he told her, "You don't want to make yourself sick."

When the puppy had eaten every last scrap of meat in the bowl, she began to lap the water. Then, when she had had her fill of that, she pattered back over to Mordred and scrambled into his lap.

He smiled, bending down and kissing the top of her head. Then he stood up carefully with her nestled in the crook of his arm. He picked up the bowls and handed them to the cook.

"Thank you," he said, then left the kitchen, carrying the puppy.

He carried her to his room and set her down gently on his bed. She instantly curled up and fell asleep. Mordred climbed up on the bed to sit next to her.

"You need a name," he told her. He thought for a moment then smiled, feeling he had the perfect name, "Eirlys. It means snowdrop. You know, for the little white patch on your chest."

Eirlys opened her eyes and gave a sleepy yap.

Mordred smiled, "You like it, then?" He changed into his nightclothes and snuffed out the torch, then crawled into the bed. Eirlys stood up and shook herself, then scampered across the bed, curled up at his side, and went back to sleep.

Mordred felt a sudden swell of happiness sweep through him.

"Goodnight, Eirlys," he murmured, kissing her head again, "We're going to be good friends, I know it." He fell asleep with one hand resting on her warm, furry back, and for once he had no nightmares.

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts!**


	5. Chapter Four: Friendship and Memories

**Disclaimer: Merlin does not belong to me.**

 **Chapter Four: Friendship and Memories**

The next morning, Mordred was woken not by the usual knock on the door, but by the feeling of a small, wet tongue licking his face.

He opened his eyes and pushed Eirlys away, laughing, "That tickles."

The puppy barked happily.

Mordred's nose wrinkled as he smelled something distinctly unpleasant. He sat up in bed and spotted a wet patch where Eirlys had been sleeping.

"Eugh," he muttered. He held his hand over the spot and murmured a spell he had learned from one of the books in the library. To his satisfaction, the spot vanished. He grinned triumphantly, then looked at Eirlys, "I'm going to have to teach you not to go in here."

He got out of bed and got dressed. He had just finished when there was a knock at the door, one of his mother's servants coming to wake him up.

He pulled the door open, "Good morning!"

The servant, a young man named Thomas, blinked, surprised by the usually somber boy's cheerful tone.

"Good morning, young master," he regained his composure, "You're in a good mood today."

Before Mordred could respond, Thomas spotted Eirlys, "Where did-"

"I found her in the garden," Mordred responded, "She's mine now."

"Does your mother know that you have her?" Thomas asked.

Mordred shook his head, his cheerful expression turning momentarily anxious as he wondered if his mother would let him keep the puppy. Then he drew himself up in determination; he _would_ keep Eirlys, no matter what his mother said. If she tried to make him get rid of her, then he really would run away.

He strode determinedly down the hall toward the dining room and Eirlys scampered at his heels.

Morgause looked up when he came in, frowning when she saw the puppy, "What is that?"

"She's a puppy," Mordred said, "And she's mine. I found her in the garden."

He faced his mother with a stony expression, just waiting for her to protest.

But after watching his face for a moment, Morgause only nodded, "Fine. But keep her from making trouble."

Mordred's stony expression vanished and he beamed at his mother for the first time in his life.

"I will!" he promised.

He sat down at the table and Eirlys jumped into his lap.

When the servants brought the food in, there was also a bowl of food and a bowl of water for Eirlys.

Morgause looked at the bowls as the servant set them on the floor, and then at the servant, "How did you know about the dog?"

The girl shrugged, "Mordred brought her into the kitchen last night. Cook told me to bring the bowls."

"I see," Morgause nodded and let the matter drop.

The serving girl looked relieved; perhaps she had been worried she would get in trouble for not informing Morgause of the puppy's appearance last night.

Eirlys jumped out of Mordred's lap and began to eat. He watched her for a minute then turned to his own food.

When he was finished, he stood up from the table, "Come on, Eirlys, let's go outside."

Morgause glanced from her son to the dog, "Eirlys?" she repeated.

Mordred nodded, "For her mark, see?"

He scooped Eirlys up and held her up so his mother could see the little patch of white fur on her chest.

"I see," Morgause replied.

Mordred headed toward the door, still carrying Eirlys.

When they got outside, she wriggled in his arms, full of energy and eager to be put down.

Mordred carried her into the garden before setting her down.

Immediately she began to run in circles, chasing her tail and yapping.

Mordred laughed, sitting down on the ground to watch her.

After a while, she got bored of chasing her tail and bounded over to Mordred, yapping.

She jumped up on his lap and put her little paws on his chest, then jumped off and crouched, wiggling her hindquarters.

Mordred smiled, "You want to play, girl?"

Eirlys barked as if in affirmation.

Mordred pushed himself to his feet. Eirlys bounced around at his feet, barking like mad. He searched the garden until he found a good stick, then leaned down and showed it to Eirlys, then threw it.

The puppy raced after it. When she found it, she pounced on it, picking it up in her sharp little teeth and shaking her head back and forth, growling fiercely.

Mordred approached to take the stick to throw it again, but as soon as he got close, Eirlys suddenly dashed away across the garden.

She skidded to a halt and looked back at him. He approached her again, and again she let him get within a few feet before suddenly dashing away again.

This game continued for several minutes until Eirlys was distracted by a butterfly fluttering past and began to chase it, leaving the stick lying forgotten in the grass.

Mordred sat down in the grass again and watched her as she ran, her little paws skittering rapidly across the grass as she pursued her tiny, brightly colored, target.

He felt happier than he had in a long time. For once, the prophecy and his destiny were far from his mind, driven away, at least for the moment, by the bright sunshine, and the smell of flowers, and the happy barking of his puppy as she chased the butterfly.

When lunchtime came, one of the servants brought a tray out to the garden, containing food and drink for both Mordred and Eirlys.

After lunch, Mordred played chase with Eirlys for a little while before sitting down in the grass to watch her again.

When Eirlys finally grew tired from running back and forth, she trotted over to Mordred and lapped up a few mouthfuls from her water bowl, then flopped down at his side, her little tongue hanging out as she panted.

Mordred lay back in the grass, stroking her soft fur absentmindedly as he gazed up at the sky overhead.

"My father would have loved you, I bet," he told her. For once, the thought of his father did not bring up anger and grief and the memory of his death.

Instead Mordred found himself remembering the good times, the happy times. He began to speak aloud, describing his memories to Eirlys, jumping from topic to topic as the memories came.

"Did you know my name came to him in a dream?" he directed the words at Eirlys while still looking up at the sky, "The first night, when he found me, he didn't know what to name me, but then he fell asleep and he dreamed about me, and in the dream he called me Mordred. So, that's what he named me."

He smiled, "I set our tent on fire, once. With my magic. I didn't mean to of course, but Branwen's oldest son Brin had been teasing me all day and I was really angry. I was so shocked when it happened. My father put the fire out and I thought I was going to get in so much trouble, but he just told me that I would have to be more careful and learn to control my magic when I was upset."

Mordred turned his head to look at the puppy, "I'm better at that now, but I still have trouble sometimes."

He yawned, "I guess I still have some work to do." He continued talking, relaying memories of his father to the puppy until he dozed off, drifting into a light sleep.

 _He dreamed he was back in his old Druid camp. His father was there, and Aglain, and Branwen, and Brin, and everyone else who he had grown up with._

 _Eirlys was there too, running back and forth across the camp, getting under everyone's feet._

 _His father kept his arm around Mordred's shoulders as he watched the puppy with amusement. Every so often, Mordred would look up at his father's face, and Cerdan would look down at his son with a look of love and pride on his face._

 _After a while, Mordred crouched down and called to Eirlys, laughing, and she ran to him._

 _Cerdan crouched next to his son, and stroked the puppy's back. She barked happily and licked his hand. He laughed good-naturedly as he stood._

 _Mordred scooped up Eirlys and stood up too. She instantly began licking his face._

Mordred woke from the dream to find that Eirlys really was licking his face, standing over him with her little paws on his shoulder.

He pushed her away and sat up. Dusk was gathering. Mordred noticed that the tray and the dishes had vanished; one of the servants must have come and gotten them while he was asleep.

"It's getting dark," he said to Eirlys as he stood up, "We better go inside. Supper will probably be ready soon."

Eirlys followed as he left the garden and walked toward the palace.

At supper that night, Mordred was still in an unusually good mood, and his mother noticed.

"You seem happy," she observed, "Did you have a good day today?"

Mordred nodded, "Oh, yes. Eirlys is really wonderful. I've never had a dog before."

Morgause smiled, "Well, I'm glad she makes you happy."

Before he went to bed that night, Mordred took Eirlys out in the garden once more, so she could do her business and hopefully avoid another accident in his bed. He let her sniff around and explore for a few minutes while he lay on his back and watched the stars. They were really beautiful tonight. Mordred's eyes picked out the familiar shapes of constellations, and he remembered the stories his father and the other Druids had told him about them.

After a while, mindful of what had happened the last time he fell asleep in the garden, he sat up and called Eirlys to him and headed inside to his bedroom.

"Hopefully Morgana will visit again soon," he said to Eirlys as he changed into his night clothes, "I can't wait for you to meet her. I'm sure you'll like her. She's really nice. She's my aunt, you know. I didn't know it when we first met though."

After extinguishing the lamp, he climbed into bed and, just as she had the night before, Eirlys curled at his side. Mordred pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I love you, Eirlys. I'm so glad I found you," he whispered to her, "Today was the best day I've had in a long time."

Within a few moments, boy and dog were both fast asleep.

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review!**


	6. Chapter Five: The Prisoner

**Disclaimer: Iyay oday otnay ownyay** _ **Erlinmay.**_

 **Chapter 5: The Prisoner**

One day, when Mordred had been living with his mother for a few months, she unexpectedly announced that they were taking a trip.

"Where are we going?" Mordred asked.

"To the castle of Fyrien," Morgause responded, "I have business to attend to there and we'll be staying there for a while."

The way she said "business" struck Mordred as ominous, but he didn't ask any more questions.

They rode for the Castle of Fyrien in the dark of the night. Mordred fashioned a sort of sling for Eirlys, so he could carry her in it while he rode the horse. He refused point blank to leave her behind as his mother suggested.

Eirlys slept through most of the journey, only waking up when they were within sight of the castle. She wiggled around in the sling, then looked up at Mordred, tilting her head to the side as if asking a question.

"I'll let you down when we get to the castle," he whispered to her.

Eirlys let out a bark and Morgause looked back in irritation.

"Shh," Mordred said. He stroked Eirlys' back and she settled down.

As dawn was breaking they reached the castle and rode into the courtyard. Mordred dropped lightly down from his horse, keeping a hold of Eirlys so she didn't fall.

Handing the reins of her horse to one of the guards waiting in the courtyard, Morgause strode toward the castle and Mordred had to hurry to keep up with her.

Once inside the castle, Morgause strode to the doors of the throne room without breaking pace.

The two guards standing outside it hurried to open the door for her.

Mordred followed his mother into the throne room. There was a man lounging on the throne. He had long, dark hair and wore tight-fitting black clothes.

He rose from the throne when he spotted Morgause, smiling, "My dear Morgause. What a pleasure."

"Cenred." Morgause returned coldly.

 _Cenred?_ Mordred thought, _So this was the king of Essetir…_

Morgause beckoned Mordred and he stepped forward.

"My son, Mordred," she presented him coolly.

"Ah, yes," Cenred smiled down at Mordred, "I have heard much about you, Mordred."

Mordred just regarded him silently. He decided he didn't like Cenred much.

Apparently Eirlys shared Mordred's distaste. She stuck her head up out of the sling and growled at Cenred. Mordred hid a smirk.

Cenred gestured lazily to one of his guards, "Why don't you take the boy to a bedroom? I'm sure he's tired from his travels and his mother and I have much to discuss." He gave Morgause a smile that looked more like a leer.

Mordred followed the guard silently. He led Mordred to a bedroom, then left quickly. As he shut the door, Mordred heard him mutter something that sounded like "Spooky boy…"

Mordred was tired and wanted to sleep, but Eirlys had only recently woken up and she wanted to play. It took some time before he could get her to settle down, but once he was in bed, sleep came quickly, and he didn't wake until mid-day.

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Perhaps because he had slept so late in the morning, Mordred found himself unable to sleep that night. He had no idea what his mother and Cenred were doing here. He had been kept away from the throne room all day, and had seen neither his mother nor Cenred.

He left his room with Eirlys at his side and began to explore the old castle.

After wondering the castle for a while, he descended a staircase and found himself in the castle dungeons. There was a single guard posted, but he was asleep. He looked around the place warily, reminded of the short time he had spent in a cell in Camelot. But instead of bars, these cells had iron doors with a small flap in them that could be opened and closed.

Mordred turned to leave the dungeons. He had his foot on the first stair when he realized that Eirlys wasn't following him. He turned back and saw her sniffing at the door to one of the cells. She whined softly.

"What is it, girl?" Mordred walked back towards her and examined the cell door. He could reach the flap, but it was higher than his eye level. He found a dusty old crate in the corner of the dungeons and dragged it over to the door.

He took the lit torch from its brazier on the wall, then climbed up on the crate and slid the flap in the door open.

There was a man inside the cell. He had been sleeping, but he stirred at the sound of the flap sliding open.

He sat up and looked toward Mordred, no doubt expecting to see a guard or perhaps Cenred or Morgause. He was a young man with dark skin and short dark hair.

His eyes widened when he saw Mordred.

"Who're you?" his voice was hoarse.

"My name is Mordred," Mordred replied, "Who are you?"

"I'm Elyan," the man said, standing up to get a better look at Mordred, "What are you doing here?"

"My mother brought me here," Mordred answered.

"Your mother?" Elyan seemed puzzled.

Mordred nodded, "She's working with Cenred."

Elyan scowled at the name.

"Why are they keeping you here?" Mordred asked.

"I don't know," Elyan's voice was frustrated, "All I know I they kidnapped me from my forge. And the brought my sister here too, but I don't know what they did with her."

Mordred could hear the worry in Elyan's voice when he spoke of his sister.

"Hang on," he said, "I'll see if I can find her."

He climbed down from the box and pushed it over to the next cell. Sliding the panel open, he held the torch up and shone it into the cell. It was empty. He repeated the process with all of the other cells and found them all empty.

He dragged the box back over to Elyan's cell and peered in again, "She isn't here. All the other cells are empty."

He saw the worry pass over Elyan's face as the older man wondered what this might mean.

"I don't understand what they want with us!" Elyan burst out, "I'm just a blacksmith and Gwen's only a serving girl."

An expression of startlement crossed Mordred's face at the name Gwen, but Elyan didn't notice. Again his mind went back to his time in the city of Camelot.

In his mind's eye, he saw a stone ceiling above him, and two worried faces hovering over them, one of them belonging to Morgana, and one to a young woman with dark skin, though quite a bit paler than Elyan's. Gwen was the name of _Morgana's_ maid servant. Mordred doubted that it was a coincidence.

Elyan coughed.

"I don't suppose you have any water?" he asked Mordred hoarsely.

"Hang on," Mordred replied, "I'll get you some."

He stepped down from the crate and replaced the torch in its brazier. He walked over to the table where the guard slept, but all he found there was an empty jug that from the smell of it had contained strong wine earlier that night.

He left the dungeon with Eirlys at his heels and made his way back to his bedroom, where he knew there was a jug of water on a small table.

He retrieved the jug and was about to head back to the dungeon when he had another idea. He took a detour and entered the kitchens, which were dark and silent at this time of night.

He set the jug down on the table, then rummaged around until he had found some cheese, a few strips of dried, salted meat, and a loaf of bread that had been baked earlier that day. He fed Eirlys one of the strips of meat, then wrapped the rest of the food in a cloth.

Carrying the bundle and the jug, he made his way back to the dungeons.

The guard didn't stir as Mordred passed him once more.

Mordred set the jug and the bundle of food down on the crate, then retrieved the torch again.

"I brought you some food too," he said to Elyan as he opened the slot in the door.

He handed first the jug of water, then the bundle of food to Elyan through the slot.

"Thank you," Elyan said, taking a long drink from the jug.

"You should thank Eirlys," Mordred told him, "I wouldn't have found you without her."

"Eirlys?" Elyan asked, his tone puzzled.

"My dog," Mordred scooped up the puppy, then held her up so Elyan could see, being careful to keep the torch away from her, "She sniffed at your cell door and whined."

Elyan flashed a grin, "Well, in that case, thank you, Eirlys."

Mordred set Eirlys down on the floor again as Elyan began to eat the food Mordred had brought him.

"You better give me the jug and the cloth back when you're done, I think," Mordred said, "Otherwise they might wonder how it got in your cell."

Elyan nodded, "Good thinking." He finished the food and water, then handed the jug and cloth back to Mordred.

"Thank you," he said again, "You're a good boy, Mordred." He flashed another smile, "And you have a good dog, too."

Mordred smiled back, "Thank you." For some reason, Elyan's words affected him deeply. So often, especially since learning of the prophecy about him, he had felt ashamed, like there was something wrong with him. He had wondered if his father would be ashamed of him. He had felt anything _but_ good. But he knew his father would be proud of him for helping Elyan. It was something Cerdan would have done himself.

"I better go," he said to Elyan, "I'll try to come back tomorrow. And maybe I can find out what happened to your sister. Good night, Elyan," he added.

"Good night, Mordred." Elyan replied.

Mordred slid the slot in the door closed and climbed down from the crate. He replaced the torch in its brazier once more and then returned the crate to the corner where he'd found it.

"Come on, Eirlys," he said, stooping to pick up the cloth and the jug. His puppy trotted at his heels as he made his way back to his room, where he set the jug and the cloth down on the little table and then climbed into bed. Eirlys hopped up beside him.

Mordred yawned, "I wonder what my mother and Cenred are planning, bringing Morgana's maid servant and her brother here…"

 **Please leave a review and tell me what you thought!**


	7. Chapter Six: Emrys

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Merlin.**_

 **Chapter Six: Emrys**

Mordred sat hidden behind a statue in the castle's throne room. The statue was mounted on a huge stone pedestal, which hid Mordred well. It was also positioned in a place where Mordred wouldn't be visible from the vantage point up above, where he knew his mother was currently watching. He'd gotten no answers from his mother about what she and Cenred were up to, so he had decided he would just have to find out for himself.

He had left Eirlys in his room, of course. The puppy would have almost certainly given him away. Mordred peeked out from behind the statue. Cenred lounged on his throne as if waiting for something.

He didn't have to wait long. Mordred had been in his hiding place for only a few minutes when the doors to the throne room opened and four prisoners were led in and forced to kneel before the throne. Mordred gasped. All four were familiar to him.

One was Gwen. At least now Mordred knew she was still alive.

But it was the sight of the other three prisoners that made shock course through Mordred's body: Prince Arthur, Emrys, and Morgana.

He quickly realized that Morgana couldn't really be a prisoner. His mother would never allow that. It must be an act on her part.

Mordred's mind worked furiously. This must be the reason Cenred had captured Elyan then. It was all a trap to capture Prince Arthur. That explained why Gwen had disappeared too. They must have released her, allowed her to go back to Camelot for help, knowing Prince Arthur would come to her aid.

Mordred didn't think to wonder why Prince Arthur would risk so much to help a servant girl and her brother. After all, he had defied his father to help a Druid boy who he'd never met before.

Mordred had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he had paid no attention to the words being exchanged between Cenred and the four prisoners.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a sudden shout from Prince Arthur as he lunged toward Cenred, _"I won't let you harm them; they're innocent!"_

Cenred faced the prince unphased, _"Innocent? No friend of Camelot is innocent."_ He watched as Prince Arthur and his companions were dragged away, then turned and made a playful bow toward where Morgause watched.

Briefly, Mordred considered calling out to Emrys in his mind, but what good would that do? Besides he hadn't forgotten wat had happened the last time he had met Emrys.

Mordred had been so intent on what he was watching, he'd forgotten to be careful of how far he leaned around the statue.

As Cenred strode toward his throne, he glanced toward the statue and his eyes met Mordred's.

Mordred quickly withdrew his head, his heart racing, but it was too late. He heard bootsteps tromping toward his hiding place, and the next moment, one of Cenred's guards had seized him by his arm, pulled him to his feet, and dragged him out from behind the statue.

Mordred scowled, "Let go of me." He pulled his arm out of the guard's grip,

"Well, well," Cenred said, looking down at Mordred, "It seems we have a little spy."

Mordred glared at him silently. He wanted to look up to where his mother stood, to see her reaction to his presence, but he resisted the urge.

A few minutes later, Morgause strode into the throne room.

She came to stand in front of Mordred and looked down at him, arms crossed, clearly waiting for an explanation.

"You wouldn't tell me what was going on," Mordred said defiantly, "So I decided to find out for myself."

"I didn't tell you our plans because there was no need for you to know them," Morgause said coolly, "But I suppose it does not really matter. Now, why don't you go and play with your puppy, Cenred and I have business to discuss."

As he left the throne room, Mordred was torn between relief that he wasn't in trouble and annoyance at her abrupt dismissal of him.

But his thoughts quickly returned to what he had just seen. His mother had Prince Arthur captive, what if she expected Mordred to fulfill the prophecy about him here and now?

His stomach twisted. Surely even she wouldn't expect that.

 _She wasn't even going to tell me that she had captured them,_ he reminded himself, _If I was part of her plan, then she would have told me, wouldn't she?_

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Mordred was searching for Eirlys, who had run off somewhere, when the warning bells began to ring. He felt a surge of relief. The bells could only mean one thing: the prisoners had escaped. He whispered a quick prayer to the Triple Goddess, hoping they wouldn't get caught.

He continued to search for Eirlys. How had the puppy managed to disappear so thoroughly? Turning a corner, Mordred nearly ran right into someone. He froze when he realized who it was… Emrys.

Emrys stared down at him, just as shocked to see Mordred as Mordred was to see him. All things considered, he was probably even more surprised.

As the two stared at each other in silence, Mordred waited for the anger he had felt towards Emrys since they had last met to rise up, but none came.

What did come was fear, as the image Mordred had seen in his nightmare flashed in his head, Emrys' cold gaze and the dragons flying toward him.

" _Mordred_." Emrys broke the silence at last and Mordred suddenly realized that he wasn't the only one who was afraid. Emrys was afraid too, afraid of _him._ It was absurd, the thought that the most powerful sorcerer to ever live could be afraid of Mordred, but he knew it was true.

{Hello, Emrys.] Mordred said, choosing to speak with his mind, rather than aloud. It was easier that way, safer. And he wouldn't risk his voice shaing and letting Emrys know that he was afraid.

"What – what are you _doing_ here?" Emrys got out.

Mordred was still trying to figure out how to respond when he heard the heavy thud of boots approaching the corridor.

{Quick, in here!} he hissed,and pushed Emrys into an empty room.

A moment later, a trio of guards entered the corridor. They halted when they saw Mordred.

"The prisoners have escaped." The leader said roughly, "Did any of them come this way?"

Mordred shook his head, giving them a wide-eyed look, "I haven't seen anyone. I was just looking for Eirlys…" he trailed off as the guards started moving again.

{You can come out now,} he told Emrys when the guards had vanished from sight, {They're gone.}

Emrys emerged from the room. He stared at Mordred for a long moment, as if trying to figure him out, before he muttered, "Thanks."

Mordred nodded in response.

"Why are you here?" Emrys repeated his earlier question.

Mordred looked up at him, {Because Morgause is my mother.}

Emrys stared at him. A part of Mordred wanted to blurt out the whole story and to find out what Emrys knew about the prophecy, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. And besides, there was no time.

{You should go,} he told Emrys, {Before the guards come back.}

"Right," Emrys shook himself, as if he'd forgotten where he was, "I have to find Arthur."

{Good luck, Emrys} Mordred called as the older sorcerer ran quickly down the hall. As Emrys turned the corner, he glanced back at Mordred, his eyes full of questions.

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The party made camp for the night in the woods. The others all fell asleep quickly, but Merlin sat by the dying fire, unable to sleep. Seeing Mordred had rattled him to the core and he kept replaying his encounter with the boy over and over in his head.

The last time Merlin had seen Mordred, the boy had killed two knights. He remembered the way Mordred had smiled after he had sent the spears flying at them.

 _I shall never forgive this, Emrys, and I shall never forget…_ The words Mordred had spoken that night echoed in Merlin's mind. And yet Mordred had helped him today. If he hadn't pushed him into that room, Merlin would most likely have been caught.

 _Why would he help me?_ Merlin wondered for what felt like the millionth time.

And then there was what Mordred had revealed.

 _Morgause is my mother._

All of Kilgharrah's warnings about Mordred raced through Merlin's mind. It couldn't be good that the boy who was destined to kill Arthur was the son of one of Camelot's greatest enemies.

And that would make him Morgana's nephew too, Merlin realized with a jolt, remembering what Kilgharrah had said about an alliance of evil between Mordred and Morgana.

Merlin felt as if a dark cloud loomed over him. Mordred had helped him today, but the next time they met, would he be the enemy? The next time they met, would he be trying to kill Arthur?

When Merlin closed his eyes, the image of Mordred's face seemed to haunt him. How could one little boy strike such fear into his heart?

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Miles away, Mordred too was having trouble sleeping. He had eventually found Eirlys asleep under a bed in one of the castle's many vacant rooms.

When he had entered the throne room, he had found it partially destroyed; neither Emrys nor Arthur was anywhere in sight and his mother and Cenred looking as if the ceiling had fallen on them, which, Mordred found out quickly, was exactly what had happened.

Both were relatively unharmed, but furious, and Mordred was very glad that they didn't know that he had helped Emrys evade the guards.

Now, as he lay in bed, he couldn't stop thinking about his encounter with Emrys.

The way Emrys had looked at him… He must know about the prophecy. There was no other reason for someone as powerful as Emrys to fear a twelve-year-old boy like Mordred.

 _I don't want this_ , Mordred wanted to cry the words aloud, as if Emrys was there to hear them, _I don't want there to be a prophecy about me. I don't want people to be afraid of me. I don't want to be a killer._

 _It isn't fair… I never asked for this destiny. I never asked for any of this. It isn't fair._

Mordred felt a sudden, powerful desire to be back in his Druid's camp, in the tent he had shared with his father. He wanted his thin pallet, not this soft, luxurious bed.

He wanted to hear his father's voice again, and feel his comforting touch. And he wanted to have never heard of the prophecy.

Mordred reached out and drew Eirlys closer to him. Her warmth was comforting, and drove some of the fear and sorrow away, but his heart still ached, and he longed for his father.

 **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and I would love it if you left a review!**


	8. Chapter Seven: The Seer

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin.**

 **Chapter Seven: The Seer**

Mordred had left the castle grounds to take Eirlys on a walk. He didn't exactly have permission to do so, but he hadn't been forbidden to do so either. He kept a leisurely pace as Eirlys bounded along beside him, stopping often to sniff at various things along the way. There was a forest, not far from the castle, and Mordred headed towards it. Even after all the time he had lived with Morgause, he still felt most comfortable among the trees.

Reaching the forest, Mordred started down a little path, which had probably been made by deer. Eirlys sometimes stayed at his side, and sometimes bounded ahead. Whenever she got too far ahead, Mordred would whistle, and the puppy would come running back.

Quite suddenly, the path opened up into a small clearing. Mordred halted in surprise and Eirlys halted next to him. In the center of the clearing, a woman was sitting on the ground with her eyes closed. She was neither old nor young. She was perhaps around the age of Mordred's foster father, though he couldn't be sure. She had nut brown hair with just a hint of grey in it.

Mordred stared, wondering what she could be doing out here in the middle of nowhere. And then she opened her eyes, which were bright green, and looked straight at him, "Hello, Mordred."

A shiver ran down Mordred's spine, "How do you know my name?"

"I am a Seer," she replied, "I know many things."

"Come," she gestured to him, "Sit with me."

Mordred moved forward uncertainly, eying her warily.

She smiled at him, "I don't bite, you know."

He moved closer, stopping a few paces from her and sitting down on the ground. Eirlys bounded over to the woman and began sniffing her.

The woman smiled at the puppy and stroked her back.

This set Mordred at ease somewhat. Eirlys clearly had no problem with the woman.

"What's your name?" Mordred asked her.

"Yes, it would be only fair for me to tell you that, wouldn't it?" the women asked, "Since I already know yours."

She smiled, "I am Carwen."

Mordred was silent for a moment, debating with himself. But somehow, instinctively, he trusted this woman.

"You said you know many things…" he began hesitantly, looking down rather than meeting Carwen's gaze "Do you know… about my destiny? About what they say about me?"

Eirlys, sensing that her master was troubled, trotted back over to him and climbed into his lap. Mordred placed his hand on her warm back, and then he was able to bring himself to meet Carwen's eyes.

Her face was serious now, "I do. It is why I am here."

Mordred searched her face for any sign of disgust or condemnation, but found none.

"I – I don't _want_ to do it." he said, looking down again.

"I know," Carwen said. She reached across the space between them and placed her fingers under Mordred's chin, lifting it so he was looking into her eyes.

"Listen to me, Mordred. Your fate is not set in stone, there is a chance that you may still yet change it."

Mordred caught his breath sharply, "There is?"

"Yes, there is." Carwen replied, a hint of a smile touching her lips before her face turned solemn once more.

"How?" Mordred asked, "How can I change my fate?"

"I cannot tell you that," Carwen answered, "Even to me, much of the future is a mystery. But I can tell you one thing."

Something in her tone made Mordred go still. In his lap, even Eirlys was perfectly still, as if she too was hanging on to Carwen's every word.

"If you stay here," Carwen said, "If you remain with your mother, then you will not change your fate."

Mordred swallowed hard as her words sunk in, "I- I have to leave?"

Her eyes seemed to burn into his, "Well that depends… do you truly desire to change your fate?"

Mordred thought of how Prince Arthur had saved him. He thought of his father and all that he had taught Mordred about compassion and peace. He thought of the way Emrys had looked at him, as if Mordred were something terrible and frightening. He even thought of Elyan telling him that he was a good boy.

"Yes," he said firmly, "More than anything."

Carwen nodded, and there was something like pride in her gaze as well as regret, "Then, yes, you must leave."

"And if I do… then I can change my fate?" Mordred asked.

"You can," Carwen put her hand on his shoulder, "It will not be an easy path, Mordred. But it _will_ be possible."

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Mordred pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head. He had a bag full of clothes and blankets with the strap slung over his shoulder, and he carried Eirlys in his arms.

So far, the puppy had been silent, perhaps sensing the urgency of her master. Mordred prayed she remained that way.

His heart beat rapidly in his chest. So many times he had thought about leaving, about running away, and now he was actually doing it. Regret burned inside him as he thought of the pain and worry his actions would cause Morgana, but he had no choice.

Carwen's words echoed in his head again, _"If you stay here, if you remain with your mother… then you will not change your fate."_

As for his mother, he doubted she would feel any pain or worry at all about his disappearance. Oh, she would be furious. But it was Mordred's destiny she cared about, not Mordred himself.

Mordred ducked into an adjoining corridor as two servants passed by, yawning and speaking in low voices. Once they had passed, he emerged and continued down the corridor.

He made his way to the kitchen. Here he gathered as much food as he could fit into his bag – bread, cheese, salted meat-, and still have room for Eirlys and then slipped out the door that led to the outside.

"Sorry, girl," he whispered to Eirlys, "But I can't hold you and climb at the same time. He tucked her into the bag, praying she wouldn't whine. She remained silent.

"Good girl." he whispered. Then he began to climb the tree that grew close to the wall that surrounded the courtyard.

Once he reached a branch that was a little higher than the top of the wall, he slid along it as far as he could go without reaching a part that was too thin to hold his weight, and then stepped down onto the wall. He swayed for a second, and then got his balance. He felt Eirlys shift in his bag, but still she remained silent.

Keeping his body as low as he could, lest one of the guards by the gate look over, Mordred crept along the wall until he came to another tree, this one growing just outside the wall.

Carefully, trying not only to maintain his balance, but to jostle the bag as little as possible, Mordred grasped the tree branch. He pulled himself out, off of the wall, then hung from the tree branch for a few seconds before pulling himself up onto it.

He scrambled down the tree, jumping lightly to the ground once he got to a low enough branch.

He stood still for a moment, looking up at the castle. Then he turned and walked away quickly.

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 _A few months later_

Mordred lay on the ground in a forest, trying to sleep. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he was hit by a wave of feeling. It felt as if he had been punched in the gut, and at the same time he felt…something suddenly vanish. And he knew, though he didn't know _how_ he knew, what the feeling meant. Somewhere, many miles away, his mother had just died.

Before Mordred could even begin to process what he had just learned or the emotions it stirred in him- she had never been much of a mother to him, but still, she _was_ his mother- another feeling rolled over him.

Magic. Powerful magic had been unleashed by his mother's death. Powerful… and _dark._ In that instant Mordred knew that something terrible had been unleashed into the world.

Mordred pulled himself up into a sitting position. He reached out and pulled Eirlys close to him. The dog opened her eyes and blinked at him sleepily, and then went back to sleep. But Mordred knew that he himself would get no more sleep that night.

 _Oh, Morgana…_ he thought, _What have you done?_

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review!**


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